


weave our goodbyes

by thegoldensun (thesecondsmile)



Series: hold me 'til I die (meet you on the other side) [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Gen, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29652024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecondsmile/pseuds/thegoldensun
Summary: His brother has always been beautiful, but now, silhouetted against the dying Veretian sunset, he seems almost ethereally gorgeous.  Soft, golden hair falls around his shoulders in a cascading halo, fluttering lightly in the cool, palace breeze.  Long lashes fanning out to gently brush the tops of porcelain smooth cheeks.  Blush pink lips curled into a serene but knowing smirk.  A face carved by the Gods themselves.All accentuated by the pale blue silk wrapped around his brother’s throat.
Relationships: Auguste & Laurent (Captive Prince)
Series: hold me 'til I die (meet you on the other side) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202855
Comments: 47
Kudos: 44





	1. hanging

**Author's Note:**

> please read the tags carefully and take care! 
> 
> Fic title taken from 'Fair Verona' by Dan Mangan.

  
  
  


Auguste’s steps are heavy with the weight of duty that seems with every stride to try and pull him back, away from his brother. For years now, he has let it, a series of dreaded mistake upon dreaded mistake that he regrets more than anything. 

The years have not been kind to the golden princes, and as another one drags by, he is given a sorrowful reminder of the distance that has grown to be a chasm between them. Brothers, once inseparable, now merely residents of the same sprawling palace, rarely even crossing paths with one another.

He knows that the barrier between them is his doing, from the way he would erase promise after promise to spend time with Laurent, to his careless delegation of the care of his brother to his monstrous  _ snake of an uncle who took his beautiful little boy and— _

_ No.  _ He cannot think of that now. Not today, when they are meant to put such ugliness behind them and focus on only the good memories, no matter how few and far between, as they commemorate the young prince’s fourteenth year. 

As usual, Laurent has not graced the feast with his presence, typical for the reclusive boy who had never had any patience for the likes of frivolous celebrations and snivelling nobles. With the artificial and depthless conversations that abound at such events, Auguste can hardly blame him. His brother has always been far too intelligent to care for such inanity. 

Still, on an occasion specifically held to honour him, it would be quite a travesty for the prince in question to not at least make a cursory round of the room, which leads Auguste to where he is now, making his way to his brother’s room. Certainly, he could have instructed a guard to do the same and not personally escort his brother over, but he was concerned that Laurent’s reticent stubbornness might cause them some grief and he wanted to spare them the trouble. (It has nothing to do at all with his own disdain for such parties.)

He spies Jord and Lazar, his two most trusted guards that he therefore assigned to protect Laurent with their lives. They incline their heads respectfully at him. 

“Jord, could you please inform my absent brother that he is needed at the celebrations tonight, and that I have personally come down to fetch him in case he decides to engage in some scheming behaviour to excuse himself from this very  _ special _ occasion,” he asks with a cheerful and knowing grin on his face.

The guard bawks. “Y-your highness, my apologies, but the young prince instructed me that under no circumstances am I to bother him and enter his chambers today.”

Auguste frowns. Trying to hide away from the banquet was expected, but doing it in such a straightforward and indiscreet manner was wholly uncharacteristic of him. Nonetheless, the young prince was needed at the feast, and Auguste would just have to drag him out there himself.

Undeterred, he waves the guards off and gives three sharp raps on the door. He can still hear the sound of laughter and lyre music floating down faintly from the hall. “Laurent, I’m coming in!”

Predictably, there is no response. With a sigh, he pushes open the heavy doors and is greeted by the muted-orange rays streaming in from the large windows. 

His brother has always been beautiful, but now, silhouetted against the dying Veretian sunset, he seems almost ethereally gorgeous. Soft, golden hair falls around his shoulders in a cascading halo, fluttering lightly in the cool, palace breeze. Long lashes fanning out to gently brush the tops of porcelain smooth cheeks. Blush pink lips curled into a serene but knowing smirk. A face carved by the Gods themselves.

All accentuated by the pale blue silk wrapped around his brother’s throat.

_ “Laurent. LAURENT!” _

He surges forward like a crazed man and collides uselessly with the body that simply sways forwards with the impact. Trembling hands scrabbling wildly at the silk holding his baby brother aloft. Tears in his eyes as he shouts wildly for his guards, for  _ anyone  _ to help him get the swinging body down. Faintly, he hears someone screaming in the background. It takes a moment for him to realise that it is coming from him.

Behind him, Jord steps forward steadfastly with a sword and in one decisive swoop, cuts that  _ damned _ cloth down. Auguste is instantly there to cradle Laurent’s delicate frame in his arms.

He runs a shaky finger lightly down the side of that dainty face, perfect ~~ even in death ~~ . “Laurent, brother, it’s time to wake up now,” he coos, flashing back to years of tender early-morning wake-up visits to rouse the sleepy young prince for a surprise. “Rise and shine little one, let’s you and I go riding today.”

He can almost hear Laurent’s bright giggle, excited by the energy and carelessness of youth. Those bright blue eyes gazing hopefully at him, peeking out from crisp cotton sheets.  _ “Truly brother? Just you and me?”  _ He would ask shyly, not quite believing his good fortune at having his big brother to himself for an entire wonderful morning. Such lazy, uninterrupted periods of time were indeed a rarity once August took the throne and with it, the burden of a nation on his shoulders. The little boy who had once ridden there had taken a backseat as a result. Laurent had only been seven years old then, far too young to be left alone. To be abandoned by the last person he could truly trust and call ‘family’.

Once again, he curses his own blind folly that had led his brother down into a horrific trap while he looked on the rest of his kingdom proudly, ignorant to the devastation that had befallen his most precious subject. Hot tears spring at his eyes and he blinks them back fiercely. Now is not the time to show his weakness and again drag his brother down with his soft, unseeing heart. 

  
One errant drop escapes and lands on Laurent’s face, marring the pale white complexion or pallor his skin has taken on. Hastily, he wipes it away with another tender caress. Laurent does not stir.

He gives the sleeping figure another shake. “Laurent, come on.  _ Please wake up, brother,”  _ he pleads out desperately, visions blurring with a sea of tears. “I can’t go on without you.” Since his mother first placed a small, sleeping bundle in his arms, it has been his fiercest vow to not let any harm befall his beloved brother. Will this be the second, and final, time he fails?

Meanwhile, someone in the guard or the chaos itself has called Paschal to his side. He feels a mild but urgent presence behind him. “Your Majesty, please allow me to examine the prince. In such cases, time is of the essence,” the physician presses.

Auguste is reluctant to let his brother go from the comfort and safety of his arms. It has been years since he has held Laurent like this and he knows that it will be his agonising cross to bear if the last turns out to be on his deathbed. With one last great sob, he gingerly lays the feather light weight of his brother onto the physician’s waiting lap, hoping,  _ praying _ that someone his brother can be saved.

_ “Please,”  _ he collapses his hands into a pavilion of prayer, and petitions all the deities he knows for mercy or a miracle, to not snuff out this most cherished light in his life. 

When Paschal efficiently but cautiously unwraps the silk from Laurent’s neck to reveal a dark necklace framing the delicate arch, Auguste lets out a tortured, animal wail. It is entirely unbefitting of a king, but then again, so is a beast who allows his little brother to be in so much pain that he tries to take his own life, just so he no longer has to confront a world that has so completely turned its back on him. He can hear the whispers already,  _ this is the monster who failed to even take care of his own brother, how can we expect him to rule a whole nation?  _

Paschal rests a clinical finger under Laurent’s nose, the same nose that used to poke him curiously in the neck as chubby arms and legs wrapped around his back on one of their many expeditions and adventures as children to find dragons and witches around the palace  _ (oh god, what have I done?) _ . He doesn’t seem to have found what he was looking for if the minute furrowing of his brow is anything to go off of. Paschal is immensely skilled at hiding his emotions behind an impassive mask, unparalleled to all except Laurent himself (he closes his eyes in pain). Still, even the usual practiced blankness of face cannot hide the shard of fear that enters his eyes as he lays a clinical but immediate hand on Laurent’s fragile wrist, strangely graceless as it falls limply in the air. Auguste shudders another howl at the sight. 

He feels a hesitant arm come to rest comfortingly on his shoulder and clutches at it tightly in his panic.  _ Jord _ , he notes hazily. He clings desperately and gratefully to his lifeline that has been offered to him, human contact that anchors him to this ugly, ugly world as his own may be leaving him, fading away at this very moment. As the king of a vast empire, commanding multitudes of adoring subjects, he has never quite felt so alone until this precise time. Surrounded by nervous servants who know not what to do as their king breaks down on the floor in front of them at his dead brother, so painfully  _ human _ in his grief but still perpetually above them and untouchable in rank.

“Will he wake?” His voice breaks on that desperate whisper and he sees Paschal swallow heavily at the question. His world begins to tunnel into a swirling nightmare where he must rise everyday and face a kingdom that no longer has his most precious person because of his own failings as a king, and as a brother. He chokes on nothing and already, he feels like he is drowning. Perhaps he already is, in the pure waves of misery that wash over him, and if not, perhaps he should just do it, for committing the worst sin imaginable. That would be the least that he could do for his transgressions. 

“I cannot, I-I,” the physician stumbles, licking his lips nervously. Auguste feels his heart shatter even more. Paschal takes a deep breath to collect himself. “I cannot say for certain, your Majesty. You did manage to cut him down in time such that his heart did not stop beating, and his pulse still goes faintly. However, I fear that his brain may have gone without air for too long and…” The man trails off shakily. 

Auguste wants to shake him and scream.  _ What? What more could be wrong that could shred my heart any further than it already has been?  _ Knowing that Laurent’s heart (far larger than anyone would ever know), was still beating, no matter how weakly, was a balm to his soul, but it quickly turned to ice once more with the mention of his brain. If there was anything even more incredible than Laurent’s profound beauty, it was his vast intellect, his razor sharp wit and voracious appetite for knowledge. He lets out a shuddering breath at the image of his genius brother staring blankly at him, gaze hollow and mind empty of all the wonderful thoughts that made Laurent so perfectly himself.  _ All because he was too slow, too self-absorbed to know that his baby brother was in so much pain that he decided to steal the breath from his own lungs. _

“...even without his heart stopping, his spirit might already be lost. He might continue to breathe, but behind each inhale, there is nothing there, just an empty shell of who he used to be. There is nothing else I can do for him besides monitoring his condition. Only time will tell,” Paschal finishes, shooting a sorrowful glance Auguste’s way.

Everyone in the room automatically bows their head in mourning, as if already at Laurent’s funeral. Wordlessly, he moves closer to his brother, stares lovingly once more at that face that he has adored for his entire life, because even before he knew what it was, his heart had already begun to love his perfect brother. He gingerly leans down and presses his forehead to Laurent’s, feeling the still-warm skin against his own, the soft puffs of breath that tell him that there is still hope.

He rises slowly, his brother’s body still gathered carefully in his arms like the precious cargo that it is. “Guards, add a spare set of linens to my room. From now on, my brother will stay with me, and I will care for him,” he declares to the room, eyes still firmly on Laurent’s cherubic face.

_ As I always should have done _ , he adds silently.

He hears soft murmurs of assent and doesn’t care to hear anything more than that before he takes his leave. Stepping through the palace’s long, intricately furnished hallways, he only has eyes for the expression of peace that he has not seen on his brother’s face since he was made to age years beyond his own. The circumstances could hardly be worse, but he takes whatever opportunity he can to drink in the sight that has so wrongly been dissonant with the idea of Laurent for years, in another reminder of his own failings. 

Still, he can make this right. He might have let Laurent down time and time again, but there is still hope. He looks down into the sleeping face of his brother, which flashes seamlessly between years.  _ A curious, happy boy of six. A shy, adoring brother of eight. A silent, intelligent mind of ten. A haunted, suffering child of twelve. A sleeping, broken boy of fourteen.  _

He looks down into the sleeping face of his brother and promises fervently,  _ never again brother, I won’t let you down again. _

  
  
  



	2. for you, there'll be no more crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from 'Songbird' by Fleetwood Mac.

The days after Laurent’s ... _ attempt _ (was it truly an attempt? Or had he succeeded at tearing apart his own life as well as Auguste’s?) are difficult.

He spends mornings trapped in council meetings, pretending that his mind is on anything but the sleeping figure laid reverently on smooth sheets. He spends nights lying by his brother’s side, begging with the desperation of a mad man for any sign of life, of waking.

Laurent doesn’t stir.

He tries to keep strong, but every day that passes wears at him and thins his spirit. Food is tasteless and like sand when he unavoidably realises that not only is Laurent not going to appear opposite him at the table to silently munch on his favourite bread slathered with honey, he’s likely never going to do that again. His face has become gaunt with illness and he walks around with haunted shadows on his face. On that fateful day, Vere had lost not one but two of its golden princes.

Giving himself a rare break, he sits in the royal family’s dining room, hunched over a bottle of wine. Part of him had wanted to drink in the comfort of his room, caustically remarking that it wasn’t like Laurent would be around to see him slowly destroy himself. Another part had flinched at the thought of disgracing himself in front of his beloved brother and giving any more reason to worry him, even if it was only his lifeless body in the room. In the end, he had perhaps irrationally refused to disrespect Laurent like that and retreated to the small, private room, accompanied only by his most trusted guard.

It has been weeks since he last saw Laurent’s eyes and he would give the crown, his entire  _ kingdom _ , if it meant that he could catch a glimpse of that clear, piercing blue, and the prospect of only meeting dead, foggy orbs is enough to send him gulping down another cup, the burn in his chest not even comparable to the fire in his heart.

Ever since he first held that strangely calm baby, meeting intelligent, assessing eyes tempered by the brightness of childhood innocence, his life had gained new purpose. Not only was he to be the future King, he was a big brother, and he swore that he would do everything to protect his little brother. The extra decade he had lived without his new sibling was just an extra ten years that he could use to shield this vulnerable child from the evils of the world, an extra ten years that granted him a hand that could always wrap securely around his brother’s and a body strong enough to cover him. It was an extra ten years that was supposed to guarantee that he would never have to live another day without his brother on the same earth, but fate rarely works in simple ways.

“ _ Gods _ , how does one move on from the loss of a brother?” he moans. The agony is just as fresh as it was when he first saw Laurent hanging. In that moment, seeing him dangling there, it had almost been as if Auguste had hung him there himself. In a way, hadn’t he?

He knew that Laurent had been alone, with no one to speak to, an already reserved child withdrawing almost completely after what that  _ animal _ had done to him. Auguste had almost gone feral with his rage when he discovered his uncle putting his hands on his brother. He hadn’t known how to speak to Laurent about it, how to comfort him after failing him in such a profound manner, so he had pushed his worries to the side. 

He saw the distant glaze over Laurent’s eyes whenever he looked at glasses of wine, the dark red stark against the golden goblets. He felt how his brother would flinch away from his touch as if it was another’s hands on him. He couldn’t help but hear the heartbreaking cries at night now that he knew what to listen out for and it was torturous to imagine how many other sobs he had missed over the years. Too caught up in managing his kingdom, he had forgotten to care for his most precious subject.

He should have  _ done _ something, or even just spoken to his brother. Laurent had been shy since he was a child, with the only one he would chatter endlessly to being Auguste himself. His older brother, his sworn protector, was the only one he still had a connection with, that he might have been willing to confide in, and Auguste had cut that off. But would Laurent even have wanted to speak to the man who let him be abused in such a horrific way?

Another sharp pain pierces through him and he begins to weep. In some way, in his foolish naivety, he had thought that things would magically work out. Laurent was so serious and wise beyond his years, even from a very young age, far more than Auguste himself who was eleven years his senior. It had never occurred to him that there would be anything that his brother couldn’t handle. And now he had been corrected in the worst way possible.

“Jord, why would he do something like this? Something so  _ drastic?  _ Was he truly so unhappy?”

The guard hesitates. “His highness was a ...complicated child, who rarely revealed his true emotions to others. Still, it was clear that he was deeply troubled and sometimes, Lazar and I would hear the young prince crying in his room. At the time, we felt it impudent to report this to your Majesty, and I apologise for this immense oversight.” 

He bows his head in guilt or sorrow. Auguste tosses back another drink. At this point, does it matter? His brother is dead and gone or just as good as, so what good does regret do? All he has now is shame.

“Your majesty, please, you need to take care of yourself,” the guard urges. Then, in a quieter voice, “it’s what he would have wanted.”

“Yeah? What’s the point? Laurent is gone,” he slurs, burying his head in his hands. “How would you know what he wanted anyway?”

Jord’s response is still hesitant this time, but with a certain firmness underlying it. “The young prince was reticent about many things, but one fact that was never in doubt was that he loved you dearly, and I am certain that he would not want to see you, or the nation, waste away like this.”

The words strike a chord deep in him and Auguste blinks harshly. He closes his eyes and leans his head back, feeling new waves of pain ache dully in his chest.  _ Yes,  _ he thinks,  _ everyone knew that Laurent loved me. But Laurent didn’t know that I loved him just as much in return, did he? _

With one last sob, he tosses the cup forcefully against the wall where it shatters, bleeding dark red into the white curtains  _ (just like the one Laurent wrapped around his neck and hung himse _ _ —) _

Auguste brings his hands to his eyes and rubs as hard as he can until he sees bright stars against darkness instead of the image of his own star swinging from the ceiling which has been seared into his mind forever.  _ Please. I just want him back. _

  
  


*****

  
  


Jord stands to the side, clearly at a loss for what to do. In all his years of serving the crown, he has never seen the King drop his composure or lose himself so much to his grief, not even with the passing of his parents which forced him to take up the mantle of ruler at a tender age. Not till that horrible day when they opened the doors to Laurent’s chambers and found him hanging there. He swallows dryly. 

Then again, he can certainly understand how devastated the King would have been, given how much he adored his younger brother and how the terrible sight had rattled even him, standing helplessly behind the suffering brothers. He had seen many horrific scenes of massacres and battles, but even after all this time, there is never anything quite as tragic as seeing the life of a child snuffed out so prematurely. To know that it had been from his own actions was almost more than he could bear.  _ How colossally could we have failed, to not notice the sheer agony he must have been in? _

At the time, he could only wallow in the absolute shame of having stood foolishly outside the prince’s chambers, standing guard for nothing while the prince was dying inside the room by his own hand. How blind he had been, to not see that the real threat had long crept into the soul of the young prince, choking him from the inside? It was a naive mistake to forget that the worst dangers were those that could not be seen, and tragically, it might be a fatal one.

Now still, he is useless but to watch his King fall apart again. He bites his lip, struggling to form any words that might somehow make this situation any less unbearable than it is. What can he say?  _ I’m so sorry for your loss, your Majesty.  _ Would apologies bring Laurent back?  _ We know better now, we won’t make the same mistake again.  _ How could they, when there wasn’t anything else valuable enough to lose anymore?  _ Please, we can only move forward from here.  _ Really? They had all thought that Laurent would simply move on from that terrible trauma, but once again (and possibly for the last time), the young prince had shown them how wrong they were by acting out another option. 

He tries to speak but comes up empty.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to. All of a sudden, the King straightens up and brushes down his garments. He stares bloodshot eyes into Jord’s before giving a shaky smile, eyes still broken. 

“You’re right, Jord. I can’t just give up like this. I need to carry on. Be strong, rule the kingdom justly. It’s the right thing to do.”

Then, staring down at his ever-present signet ring bearing the symbol of the royal family on it, a brighter smile.

“For Laurent.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have it, the much requested continuation to this fic! I'm blown away by the responses, truly, and I will be replying to everyone, but it might take me some time to get to your comment because I've been a little busy with school (and writing :b).
> 
> As you can see, there is a final chapter count up now because I have made great plans for Before and After, so this will serve as a little transition story for that. I am a tiny bit self-conscious about the length of my chapters because I cannot for the life of me write anything long but I hope that what is here is still good because I like to take my time to pick out words. Chapter 3 is already half written and I'm hoping to keep up a weekly update schedule for the rest of the fic (and possibly beyond?? who knows) The problem is just too many ideas, so little time ;~;
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and are excited for the rest of the story!


	3. don't dream it's over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from 'Don't Dream It's Over' by Crowded House. Lots of important info in the endnotes about the future of this fic so please read!
> 
> TW: references to the canonical sexual abuse of a child, victim blaming and other sadness associated with the premise of this fic

  
  
  


“Good morning, Laurent,” he says tenderly, smiling sweetly at the sleeping figure on the bed. In the soft morning light, his delicate features are illuminated and painted in light rays. His face is still blank, devoid of any expression in a cruel mimicry of his usually tightly controlled mask. The only difference is that while this neutrality was previously deliberately created to encourage a particular perception of him, the emptiness now is most likely due to an actual absence of thought.

Regardless of whether there is any consciousness behind his serene expression, Auguste gingerly sweeps an errant strand of hair behind Laurent’s ear. He always did hate it when his hair tickled his face and would make the most adorable scrunched expression. Now, he doesn’t flinch at the contact, and all Auguste can do is to remember and hope.

“Anyway, I was thinking that you looked a little out of place here. Would you like me to bring some things from your room so you feel more comfortable?” He asks, and waits a beat for a response that doesn’t come.  _ Just don’t mess up my room, Auguste,  _ he can almost imagine Laurent saying with a pouty scowl. In another world, he might have.

“Great, I’ll go do that then. Don’t get up to any more trouble while I’m gone!” He gives Laurent’s cheek another fond pat before moving towards the door. Right as he goes to leave, he turns back one last time.

Looking at his brother’s sleeping face, Auguste smiles sadly.

_ Rest well, brother. I hope that in your sleep, you can find a fraction of the peace that you craved. _

  
  


*****

  
  


Walking into Laurent’s room is a bit like meeting a ghost.

It hasn’t been long enough for anything to have changed much, but a fine layer of dust has settled over the furniture and the hallway echoes with a whisper. Auguste treads in quietly, carefully, as if making the wrong move might violate the fragile silence that has come to dominate the chamber. It’s quite frightening really, to feel as though you have walked into a dead man’s room.

Not to say that he hasn’t done that before. When the King and Queen passed, as their oldest child, the duty had fallen to him to clear their belongings, and the experience had been as solemn as expected. By virtue of them having belonged to royalty, the possessions were of great value, though Auguste didn’t feel any pressing need beyond that to respect the integrity of the items. His parents had passed and their belongings would be distributed around the palace or kept in storage for preservation. As simple as that, and it should have been the same for Laurent’s. Still, it’s different when the room in question belongs to a child. When it’s his baby brother’s room.

Running his fingers lightly across the marbled wooden door frame where he could recall a gap-toothed nine-year old proudly marking the two whole inches he had grown that summer, Auguste can almost feel the warmth of happy memories past. When he opens his eyes however, all that remains are austere and forgotten items sitting dully in a foggy light. The sight makes his heart clench. While Laurent had never been that outgoing, endlessly bubbly child, there was always a quiet intensity behind his eyes. Beyond his pretty features and delicate constitution, no one could doubt that his was a mind that could as soon cut you with sharp words or aid with wise answers. Now, there is no other way to describe the air in the room other than dead.

Still, in the tranquility, there is a certain restfulness that honours Laurent’s steady spirit. He was never prone to tantrums, or childish episodes, always possessing an air of maturity that aged him far beyond his years. Auguste wonders sometimes, if Laurent should have been King instead. Regardless, he takes comfort in the knowledge that in every single world he can think of, it feels right for him to be Laurent’s older brother. His steadfast protector. His loyal confidante. And now, the universe beseeches him to carry on that role, and settling into it feels only natural.

He gazes around the room with a near reverence, and perhaps the walls that have housed the precious memories of his brother growing up are sacred in some way. He sees the old training crop carefully tucked away on a modest shelf in the corner and smiles fondly at the images of a wobbly toddler dragging it around on a wooden horse, insisting that he was going to become the greatest rider in Vere. Indeed, Laurent had grown to become one of the finest horsemen in the kingdom, but still, the mini crop was kept thoughtfully near his bed. It seemed like those early days were cherished by more than just him.

On the table across from the bed, a random assortment of coloured stones hold centrestage. Compared to the sensible, muted tones of the rest of Laurent’s stationery, they stand out like gaudy, frivolous ornaments. As someone who knows their provenance, it only brings a smile to his face. 

As enamoured as Laurent had been by his older brother, Auguste was equally as captivated. Trips back from whatever diplomatic visit Aleron had sent his heir on would see the young royal skipping out on his entourage of escorts to go running down the side of the beach in his princely robes in search of pretty, ocean-smooth rocks that would catch the light the perfect way. (Only the best for his little brother.) Upon his return, instead of exotic wines or expensive toys, the young prince would only be pacified by these modest stones. While he still pocketed these little gifts like they were precious gems, they ultimately paled in comparison to the greater present, the presence of his brother. 

In a way, this was the perfect reflection of Laurent himself. The contrast between the ‘tacky’, eye-catching rocks and the otherwise monochromatic school supplies, an odd, somewhat jarring combination. The latter would seem to be perfectly characteristic of a cold, rigid prince, but then came the juxtaposition of the colourful stones. The strange addition only made sense to those who understood the significance of the stones, as a representation of Auguste himself through a symbol of his love. Laurent was an enigma to all others who saw him, but anyone could see the plain devotion he had towards his brother, who was the unmistakable bright spot in his life. For someone as reserved as Laurent, this atypical burst of affection was impossible to miss, but with how open and welcoming Auguste was, many failed to realise that these stones were just as much a special token of his unparalleled love for his brother.

As they got older, the stones stopped, but the existing pile stayed. Each time they passed it, it was a brief flash where they could remember the incomparable joy that came when the two brothers were reunited. Even now, with the countless priceless rubies in his crown, it was these rocks that held far more value. (It’s strange to remember that he, too, was young once.)

After staring longingly at those stones that hearken back to better times, he half-heartedly rifles through some files on the table. He’s putting off trying to sift through Laurent’s extensive book collection to pick out the few tomes he can carry back to his room to lay by his bedside when he accidentally uncovers a familiar brown leather book.

The smooth feel of the leather forces tears in his eyes.

  
  


*****

  
  


_ It had been a long journey.  _

_ Even walking into the familiar opulence of the Veretian palace, he still feels the grime of sand and sweat on his skin. The only thing he wants to do is head to the baths and melt the layers and knots from his body in the steaming water, until he feels a familiar prickle of little eyes on the back of his neck. Despite his fatigue, he can’t help the way the corners of his lips twitch upwards. As much as his long trip away from Vere had taken a toll on him, his absence had likely been harder on little five year old Laurent who still struggled to understand that there were things in the world other than his big brother. Even without looking, Auguste can practically see his adorable pout. _

_ Discreetly dismissing his guards with a subtle flick of the wrist, he drops his travelling rucksack and makes a big show of stretching dramatically. “Finally back home!” He adds with a large yawn. “Now, if only there were any little boys to greet their road-weary brothers…” _

_ His eyes dart around the pillars mischievously, scanning for a familiar tuft of blond hair. Laurent is at the age where everything is endlessly humorous, and while his patience and restraint far exceed any of his peers’, even he can’t help the little giggle that escapes from behind an ostentatious vase on display. _

_ Bingo.  _

_ Stealthily creeping towards the noise, Auguste has to fight to keep his own amusement quiet. Finally he’s just in front of the display case, and with his extra height, he can easily spot the small child crouched diligently on the other side. With an almighty roar, he pounces and swiftly scoops Laurent up, tossing him into the air. He’s granted a series of elated giggles as the young prince wiggles in excitement. _

_ Laurent is ecstatic to see his brother again, and any initial plans to sulk and brood first evaporate instantly the moment their eyes meet. There is a childlike wonder in his eyes and the simple jubilation makes Auguste ask himself if anyone has ever been so excited to see him, let alone day after day. For his part, he takes his time to revel in the pure happiness of the encounter, with no need to watch out for ulterior motives or hidden favours.  _

_ When Laurent finally tires himself out with his own glee and slumps to the floor tiredly, Auguste calmly pulls him up and guides the boy to his chambers. Like a puppy eagerly following its owner, Laurent trots dutifully along with him, shooting adoring glances his way every few steps. Auguste accepts the love serenely as they walk, and if he squeezes his brother’s hand a little tighter during those times, no one else can tell.  _

_ After reaching Laurent’s room, he sets the boy gently on his bed before reaching into his rucksack, crouching down in front of him. Laurent’s eyes are drooping slightly, but Auguste knows that he’ll perk up quickly. Sure enough, the slight rustling is enough to get him alert once again, and he peers curiously at his brother’s actions. Auguste doesn’t keep him in suspense much longer and turns to address him. _

_ “Now, here’s a little present for you — I was thinking, since you love reading so much, why not try writing one of your own?” Smiling, he pushes a simple, leather-bound notebook at his brother, who smiles in delight. Chubby fingers open the cover with a carefulness that belies their age. They trace the empty cream-coloured pages as if drawing invisible patterns before Laurent looks back at Auguste, who helps to steady the weighty journal. _

_ “This way, if you ever run out of books, you’ll have this one to keep you company,” he teases, winning a bright laugh from his brother.  _

_ “Thank you ‘guste,” he chirps toothily. “I really love it!” _

_ Passing the heavy book to Laurent who receives it with hands trembling in excitement, he feels like he’s unloaded more than just the tome. He might not be able to always be by his brother’s side, but he knows that with Laurent’s expansive imagination, he will never truly be alone. _

  
  


_ ***** _

  
  


He lets out a wistful sigh at the memory. Laurent had been so young, so happy then, when his biggest concern was (rightfully) what book to read next. Even though he was a prince, with every imaginable luxury at his feet and the power to demand any gift he desired with a flick of his wrist, what he wanted was really anything his brother gave him.

There was a soft, childish roundness to his face that echoed the youthful innocence of his character, and as he aged, Auguste was sad to see both of them go. The Laurent that remained, after years of hardship had stripped any last vestiges of naivety from him, was a cold, harsh prince to those who met him, but underneath it all, Auguste knew that there still was that sweet, open child. 

Once Laurent woke up, Auguste was determined to bring him out.

Now though, his hand stops hesitantly at the edge of the book, lightly thumbing the pages. He had once thought that he was an exception to Laurent’s reserve and aloofness, but recent events had shown him that he unfortunately didn’t know his brother nearly as well as he should. Thanks to his ignorance, he might possibly not have the chance to ever ask Laurent about these things again. 

Now, he had the chance to have a bit of a glimpse into the side of himself that Laurent so purposefully hid away from the world, right in this little brown book. But should he read something so private? After all, the very same reason that he so greatly desired to learn more about his brother was the indication that Laurent wanted to remain private.

Still, the allure of having some gateway into Laurent’s mind was tantalising. The prospect that in a few minutes, he might have the answer to questions that he had been despairing over for months. To understand what Laurent was thinking when he… 

Through the haze of tears that clouded his vision, Auguste faintly realised that it was possible that Laurent hadn’t even written in the journal at all, let alone in recent years. Perhaps he was still hopelessly lost in the past and imagining that happy little boy in Laurent’s place. The thought of having missed who his brother truly grew to be through the years was enough to have him burying his face in his hands. 

In the end, it wasn’t with any more certainty that the journal would reveal anything new, but he decided that he was desperate enough to try to get any bit of Laurent that he could.

Trembling, he flipped open the first page and began to read.

  
  


*****

  
  


_ Hello! _

_ My name is Laurent. Auguste, my big brother, gave you to me, so I hope that you don’t mind that I’m writing in you. I promise I’ll try my best to be neat so you can look pretty, though no one’s supposed to look in you anyway since you’re mine and Auguste said that this is private! _

_ Since we’re going to be so intimately  _ _ aqua  _ _ acquainted, I think I should introduce myself. My name is Laurent, and I’m the Crown Prince of Vere. (I’m not sure that this matters to you, since you’re a book, but I thought you might like to know it anyway.) I’m five and a half years old now, and I really like horses. They’re so big and tall and they have such pretty hair! _

_ The only thing I like better than horses is my brother Auguste! He’s the best, and his hair is almost as pretty as the horses’. I can’t really ride him (though he sometimes lets me sit on his shoulders which is really fun) but we play chess together and he teaches me all sorts of cool things. _

_ Unfortunately, Auguste is going to be King and he’s a lot older than me, so he’s busy a lot. When we can’t play, I like to read so I can learn lots and help Auguste in the future. There’s not much else to do in the palace because there aren’t any other kids and Mama, Papa and Uncle are all busy with boring grown-up things. That’s why I’m really glad Auguste gave you to me, so I have something new to do! _

  
  


*****

  
  


Reading those sweet, enthusiastic words, Auguste can’t help but let out a few chuckles at how cute Laurent was. Even in his writings, it is clear how much he esteems his brother and likewise, Laurent is endlessly endeared to him.

Now that he has gotten a memory of his beloved brother, he is eager to read more. Quickly flipping through the rest of the book, he is soothed by the numerous pages with rows of neatly printed text which show that Laurent had been dutifully filling the book over the years. It is almost like seeing the years flicker across his brother’s face, as he watches childish scrawl smooth out into elegant script across the pages. 

He bites his lip. The words grew longer even as they were compressed into uniform rows, evidence of Laurent’s burgeoning intellect along with his age. The entries increased in length as well, and Auguste could sense that writing in the journal was becoming more of a cathartic, healing exercise rather than just the idle ramblings of a young child. This was definitely getting far more personal, but the slight shakiness in the writing convinces him to read on.

  
  


*****

_ Uncle touched me tonight. _

_ It was very strange. It felt quite different from how Auguste, or even Papa, used to hug me, but it was the first time in a long time that someone’s wanted to. _

_ The guards know to keep their distance, and all the nobles are scared to touch royalty. I don’t ever leave the palace, which means that there’s only family left. _

_ I’m not sure that this is what family is supposed to do, but I can’t help but be grateful that Uncle is still by my side.  _ _ Everyone else always seems to lea _ _ He stroked my hair so sweetly and told me that I was so delicate and pretty. It didn’t sound like an insult coming from him. _

_ I don’t know what I should think about this. It felt like a secret, the way he slipped into my room and sat quietly by my bed, and every word was said in hushed whispers or kisses pressed against my skin. Auguste loved me because he was my brother, and that’s what brothers are supposed to do. I know I’m luckier than most to have him already, but he’s so busy nowadays that I rarely see him. (I shouldn’t complain; he’s learning to be King for goodness sake!) _

_ I already had twelve good years of Auguste’s unadulterated attention, but now that I’m no longer the centre of his world, I’m greedy and selfish enough to kick up a fuss. Who would I be to demand any more? _

_ Uncle also said that Auguste wouldn’t have time for me anymore, and that he would be there for me instead. It made me feel ...special. I didn’t even ask, but he told me that I was older now and that he saw something in me that he liked. I don’t know Uncle that well so I’m not sure if I like him back either (and certainly never as much as Auguste) but I’m afraid that it would be ungrateful of me to turn down his affections when not one, but two people now have for some reason decided to care for me, despite all of my flaws and coldness. I’ve been so spoilt that I never really knew what it felt like to be alone. _

_ I don’t know what to do. Is it bad that I just want to be beautiful and loved? _

  
  


*****

  
  


Reading Laurent’s trepidation makes him feel sick to his stomach, but even that isn’t enough to quell the overwhelming feeling of shame at how his absence had driven his baby brother into their uncle’s arms.

_ Where was I,  _ he thinks angrily, wiping hot tears away furiously. A passing glance, a split second hug might have been enough to remind Laurent that he was worth the world, and that would never change. If only he had taken a spare moment to  _ look _ at his brother and let him know how much he meant to him, he might not have felt like he deserved what Uncle had been doing to him.

Before he realises it, he’s weeping openly, crying for the abuse that Laurent had gone through but also the pain he must have been in from his isolation. Uncle was able to see it, to recognise the adolescent uncertainty tormenting him and use that vulnerability to sink his claws into him, so why wasn’t Auguste? Was this precisely the sort of thing that older brothers were supposed to protect their little siblings from?

What good was a King if he couldn’t even look after those nearest and dearest to him?

  
  


*****

  
  


_ He keeps coming to my room.  _

_ I still can’t help but revel in the attention and sweet words that he whispers to me, and my body always arches up into his like it instinctively knows what to do, but those nights after he just as silently slips back into his own bed, it takes hours to fall asleep. I busy myself with cleaning up the evidence of our ...activities (it is almost funny, that this is how I learned to do the laundry), and the whole time, I cannot tell if the shaking of my hands and rapid beat of my heart is from the leftover adrenaline, or something else. _

_ Even when I am finally able to lose myself in sleep, I am tormented by dreams filled with paralysing terror and I feel like I am drowning in sweat and tears. Is it possible that something causes so much pleasure but also the torturous thralls of shame? _

_ Uncle says that this is our little secret. That the intimacy of our relationship is based on its rarity, and others wouldn’t understand how wonderful our love is. It does seem like a precious thing, especially now that I know how scarce and uncommon love is, and when Uncle asked if I wanted him to continue to care for me, I am ashamed to say that it was a desperate, frenzied ‘yes’ that left my mouth. The answer seemed to please him. _

_ It makes me feel scared  _ _ and ashamed _ _ that this is something I’m not supposed to tell Auguste. I don’t think I’ve ever had a part of myself that I didn’t dare to show to him, but this makes me feel overwhelmingly ugly. _

_ I pride myself in always being in control of conversations, but speaking with Uncle feels like I am constantly off balance, being whisked away (or dragged around) breathlessly wherever he deigns. Maybe I should be grateful that he is kind enough to teach me so much, but I still find myself longing for those days when Auguste would walk beside my horse and steady me to make sure I wouldn’t fall.  _

_ I once shyly admitted that to Uncle and he just laughed and told me that Auguste was far too busy to worry about entertaining silly little boys like me. He was right of course, and I suppose I should thank him for the reminder.  _ _ (Still, I want to be selfish.) _ _ I suppose I must have still looked somewhat downcast, because he reminded me that the King had many more important things to care about. In my foolishness, I suggested that I could help him out with running the kingdom because I had been reading up on tax codes a lot and keeping up with my studies. I regretted it as soon as I said it, but Uncle was kind enough to just tell me that I wasn’t nearly at the level where I would be of any use to him, but that was what advisors like him were for. While I’m not entirely sure what Uncle does, I am reassured that Auguste at least has him in his corner after Father died so suddenly. We are fortunate to have him as family. _

_ Still, I don’t know if this is what family is supposed to do. Each time fills me with a sense of wrongness and makes me want to scrub myself clean of my filth. In the moment, I relish in those gentle little touches but in the stretches of time before and after (when I think that I am in my right mind, but even then, I cannot be sure that I am ever), I think I dread his coming. I wish none of this ever happened. I wish I didn’t have to make this choice. I wish love were just the simple, easy hugs with Auguste when we were children. _

~~_ Auguste, please help me. _ ~~

  
  


*****

  
  


The words are heartbreaking but what sucks the air from his lungs are the faint stains of dried tears lining the page. The revelation almost sends him to his knees.  _ Laurent was crying when he wrote this. _

Laurent, even while being twisted into caring for the monster of a man and thinking that this was what love was, still couldn’t shake the sense of wrongness of his uncle’s hands on him. Laurent had been lied to and deceived and  _ taken advantage of _ without any care for what those manipulations would do to him. 

It’s difficult to think of that, to reconcile his strong, indifferent brother with an image of vulnerability, and it is a painful reminder that in so many ways, Laurent was still so young. If only he had also remembered that Laurent was, and would always be, his little brother in need of his protection.

For once, the word he would use to describe his brother would be ‘ _ helpless’. _

And wasn’t that a painful thought? That the best person he knew would be reduced to the  _ plaything _ of a barbaric beast and forced to deal with the abuse alone because he didn’t know where to turn to, didn’t know what to do.

Seeing the words straight from Laurent’s mind, it’s all too easy to see how Laurent could have been promptly lured into Uncle’s bed, and the only thing to match the man’s evil is his skill with words. This is why Auguste was supposed to be there, to guard against these sinister evils, and his failure would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Even worse is the fact that Laurent knew that he could have told Auguste, and he would have put a stop to everything instantly. Would have saved his little brother and rescued him from the clutches of a demon. But Laurent, good, selfless Laurent, loved his brother too much to force him, in his mind, to choose between their Uncle and him. (The doubt briefly crosses his mind;  _ could _ Laurent be sure that Auguste would choose him over Uncle? The thought is too much to bear so he hides it away like a coward.) As if the kingdom and a couple of treaties were anywhere near as important as him. Like Auguste could have been happy, could have continued to  _ live _ if he knew what his brother was sacrificing for him.

If only Auguste had loved his brother nearly as much.

  
  


*****

  
  


_ I wish I prayed for him to come. I wish I hadn’t let the blatant longing on my face show.  _

_ Maybe that way, Auguste wouldn’t have walked in on us, expecting to see his cheerful little brother light up at his surprise visit but being confronted by the most shameful of displays instead. _

_ At any other time, I would have celebrated with unfettered joy that I had a precious few moments with him, like I had been wanting for months now. But he came at the worst possible moment. _

_ I know now, that I really was too greedy to want them both. To think that I was worthy enough to deserve both of their attention. _

_ I still remember what his face looked like when he stormed over and ripped Uncle off of me. I don’t think I have ever seen him that angry, and it scared me. I’m not sure if that was why I was shaking. Uncle was screaming and covered in blood by the time the guards came in. It was only then that Auguste stood up and turned to me, and I was terrified by that tortured look in his eyes. I never want to see them look that way again. _

_ He grabbed me and held me tightly and promised to never let me go and like a  _ _ child _ _ fool, I believed him. When instead, he left me to my shame and sequestered himself in his own wing of the palace, I at least had this final memory to cherish.  _

_ I must really be terrible, or a fool, because even now, I still want to be greedy. And what I want now is to just return to any time before that moment. I know it is a tall order, and there is no way that he could ever see me the way he did as a child when I have been soiled and tainted and ruined beyond hope. I don’t know why I can’t just be normal and good and right like everyone else. Like I used to be as a child.  _

_ At least before, I could cling foolishly to the knowledge, however false, that Auguste loved me. Even if it was a mere relic from the past, a vestige of our childhood, it gave me comfort that he was proud of me.  _

_ My own brother can no longer bear to look at me and I don’t know if I can bear it. _

  
  


*****

  
  


Of all the horrors he has read today, it is these words that feel like a spear to the gut most of all. “Oh brother,  _ no _ ,” he breathes out, bowing his head in penitence.

There is no way to describe the sheer anguish, the misery and self-loathing that wells up in him. He doesn’t know which is worse: having scared his brother, or having hurt him. 

He didn’t know what he was doing then by pushing Laurent away. In some bizarre twist of logic, it was his attempt to atone for his mistakes. Instead, it was just another way to punish Laurent from the crime of being a child, open and trusting. 

_ The only one who should be ashamed is me. I hope you might one day be able to forgive me. _

There were so many falsehoods in Laurent’s thinking, twisted ideas planted by the sickness in his uncle, and Auguste longed to teach him all the ways that he was wrong with true love and care. The only thing that Laurent had right, was that no matter how ugly the past, there was only moving forward. If Laurent ever wakes, he’s not going to let this second chance go.

He resolves to do better.

_ Things are going to be different _ , he promises.

  
  


*****

  
  


_ Today, I asked Papa if I could sit in on the council meeting. Auguste swears that it’s the most boring thing ever and that all they do is sit around and argue about taxes and trade agreements. _

_ Auguste is the smartest person ever (except maybe Papa) so he’s probably right about that since he never gets anything wrong. Still, he also says that chess is dumb so maybe he isn’t always right. Wait. But if he’s not always right, then who can I ask to clarify things? How will I know what is right? _

_ Either way, Papa said that I have to wait till I’m older and know more about the economy and Vere’s treaties to help. I asked him when ‘older’ was and he laughed and said when I was 14 maybe. I’m only 6 now, so that’s a whole 8 years away! (I learnt how to do subtraction in lessons today so I did the math all by myself.) Papa said in the meantime I have to make sure I study hard but I told him that I already do. (It’s Auguste that used to run out of lessons and sneak me pastries in the library, but I didn’t tell Papa that because it’s our secret.)  _

_ Auguste just laughed and ruffled my hair. I always tell him that I don’t like it because it messes up my head but secretly, I like how he always pats me. I’m trying to grow out my hair so it looks as long and pretty as his, but it’s taking me a very long time. I hope it’s long enough by the time I’m 14. That way, I’ll be able to help Auguste in the council (I’m going to be his number 1 advisor when he becomes King!) and look smart and pretty like him at the same time.  _

_ But 14 is such a long time away… I can’t wait to grow up! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I actually have written chapter 4 already and it may honestly be one of the best things I've written in my own opinion (oops self-brag) buuuuuut it does reveal a spoiler for part 3 of this series, and I kind of want to leave everyone hanging a little on what's going to happen to Lauren (evil I know) so what I'm going to do is to leave it at 3/4 for now, publish the 5 (tentative) chapters of part 1 to this series, then when I'm done with that, I'll post the final chapter to this part and start on part 3!
> 
> I have 12 fic ideas lined up including 3 political intrigue long fics so I am really being sucked in to this. Hope everyone will like those as well once I'm done with this little project :0)
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and if you enjoyed this chapter :D I love reading all of your comments and you are an incredible fandom I am so glad to be able to be a part of :')

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work for this fandom and in general (I'm a fairly new writer; just started this year! I primarily write for the MCU, specifically Captain America usually, so you can find some of my works at my other pseud, 'thesecondsmile' if you're interested!) but I was so captivated by it that I wanted to put something of my own out there.
> 
> This fic could technically end here with an open/ambiguous ending, but I'm fairly interested in expanding it to deal with some of the aftermath of this attempt and how they heal together (if this story goes like that) and the stages leading up to it (including laurent POV). Possibly even a series with some Lamen down the road! But I'm getting ahead of myself for having just published one measly chapter so far :b
> 
> Please let me know if you would like to see any continuation and if you enjoyed this fic in the comments!


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